


England Chill

by RollerJason



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mental Health Issues, idk man just read the notes and shit, its all platonic, uhhh, umm this one is hard to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29220459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RollerJason/pseuds/RollerJason
Summary: "He lightly tugged at the worn, pale blue fabric of his comforter, trying to cover his nose in an attempt to relieve the chilly breeze making his face burn from the England cold. The plush thing wouldn’t budge though, only stop at his top lip and refuse to go any further. He figured he must be laying on it, so he gave up on trying after the fourth pull, resorting to accept an irritably icy existence.Wilbur was too tired anyway. Too lost in the ceaseless, mindless scrolling his phone supplied, his only reachable distraction, in his lethargic state, from the incessant and panicked feelings."Or:Wilbur deals with anxiety and some days the panic just won't stop. Thankfully, he has a great support system and Tommy is too caring too let that be any other way.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 192





	England Chill

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyyy- not dead, lmao. School is literally the shittiest thing in the whole world and it will not stop beating my ass with a clubbed mace (which I'm pretty sure isn't even a thing).
> 
> Anyway, disclaimer: I deal with anxiety myself so I used my experience. Wilbur has a different experience so this work, in no way, reflects him or his health. If he says he doesn't want fiction of him or his mental health, this will go down immediately. Be respectful of him and anyone else with anxiety. :)
> 
> With that, please enjoy a crumb of big brother Wilbur and younger brother Tommy!
> 
> ~RollerJason <3

He lightly tugged at the worn, pale blue fabric of his comforter, trying to cover his nose in an attempt to relieve the chilly breeze making his face burn from the England cold. The plush thing wouldn’t budge though, only stop at his top lip and refuse to go any further. He figured he must be laying on it, so he gave up on trying after the fourth pull, resorting to accept an irritably icy existence.

Wilbur was too tired anyway. Too lost in the ceaseless, mindless scrolling his phone supplied, his only reachable distraction, in his lethargic state, from the incessant and panicked feelings. 

It’s not like he had any reason to feel nervous. He had no stream planned, he wasn’t in immediate danger, hell, he didn’t even have anything he needed to do that was avoiding. No, Wilbur was fully free to spend his time there, laying in his room, on his phone, doing nothing because there was nothing to worry about.

But, because there is never not a ‘but’, his body refused to let him relax.

Like the prodding of your brain that nervousness pesters you with when stepping on a plane as a nervous flyer. Or the jolt of adrenaline in your veins and the abrupt stop of your car when slamming on the breaks as a reckless driver cuts you off. The ticking clock that ticks in time with your heart rate as the minutes go down, down, down during a timed test. It all felt panicky and fast and that was all he could feel.

Except, Wilbur had nothing to worry about right now and that was just so  _ annoying _ . His most immediate threat is someone coming through his broken window to kill him, and even then, he’s on the third floor of a flat and the trees are too small in this area of Brighton to even come close to being a stepping stone for someone’s entrance.

And  _ yet _ , his body is humming like a live wire fence trying to keep out nonexistent wolves from his cattle. 

He’s gotten a bit used to it, the nervousness. It’s like it’s ever present, always somewhere in some quantity, whether in the back of his mind or at the forefront, taking over his thoughts. Sometimes it’s warranted, like when he’s in the perception of hundreds of thousands of viewers only clicks away from revealing his whole self to the world. But usually, he just feels like he’s walking across the fence between fight and flight with unpredictable winds.

It’s still  _ there _ though, so it’s hard to ignore.

But, he  _ wasn’t streaming _ , his rational side thought. He was as comfortable as one can get, swaddled tight in a comforter with leisurely toneful music from his phone filling his head. But, for  _ some reason _ , he was still buzzing with trepidation.

Panic, anxiety, fright, dismay; They all filled his entire body, flowing through his bloodstream like he’s being pumped with caffeine and adderall and cortisol to such a degree that his veins glowed with energy under his skin, literally setting his nerves on fire.

Wilbur was deep. Deep within the all encompassing dread that poked him from every angle and he hated it. So much so that he barely registered his finger halt it’s monotonous scrolling, instead gripping his phone tightly so that it nearly disappeared in his palm from anger.

It was a bad day, he concluded when he finally noticed he was nearly crushing his phone. A bad day.

Any optimism he had left depleted as he dropped his phone and settled further into his covers to give in to a long evening, and eventually night, of bordering a panic attack.

Thankfully, someone or thing out there in the universe seemed to take pity on him.

They decided, whenever he had a bad day, especially one with which drained his energy enough to turn his brain to slush, that he merited one of the kindest beings he had the fortune (or perhaps fate) of meeting.

His phone, now laying face-down on his mattress next to his flattened pillow, dinged. The almost irritating sound only just manages to coherently register in his mind through the strong emotions.

Slowly, Wilbur trailed his hand to flip his phone up to see the notification. 

_ Discord _

_ Tommyinnit sent a private message: wilby play bedqars with me _

Wilbur’s lips quirked up ever so slightly. The silly, most likely intentionally lurring, nickname blooming something cozy in his chest and head that brought something like happiness to shine through the vexation. 

He wasn’t sure how far he’d be able to get; Maybe to his desk. Maybe to sitting up. The younger’s small but limitlessly care-filled message had a sense of peace plowing it’s way into his heart though, and before he knew it he was making his way over to his desk.

Sitting down and logging in, he pulled up Discord. And before the surge of touching adoration could even threaten to evade him, he clicked ‘call’.

“Wilbur!” Came in Tommy’s cheerful voice. It fed that warmth in his body and he could practically see the teen’s wide grin in his reforming mind, smile lines creasing the corners of his eyes.

“Hey, Tommy.” He murmured in reply, feeling soft and malleable in his friend’s inviting presence.

“Big Dubs!” Tommy said, voice purposefully low like he does when doing a bit, “Man, you are going to be so destroyed- I am- I am going to ruin you!” 

Wilbur chuckled, fluffing his dark hair out of his face, “I don’t doubt it one bit.” He jested, light sarcasm seeping into his tone.

As he booted up minecraft, Tommy’s playful and infectious banter occupying his thoughts, Wilbur could feel his nerves settle. The anxiousness was still there, but it was blanketed by the soothing, easy back and forth of their conversation.

After several rounds of ass-kicking and getting his ass-kicked, a yawn from the other end of the call told him it was time to stop it there.

“I think i’m gonna’ go to bed. You should too, Tommy.” Wilbur said into his mic, moving his mouse to close Minecraft and switch his way back to Discord.

A small whine and then a reluctant sigh that had him giggling came instead of words.

“Seriously, Tommy,” He nagged, “It’s late.” He glanced at the digital clock in the corner of his computer; It wasn’t that late, but that doesn’t matter.

“Fine,” Tommy said, dragging out his response, “Talk to you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

Wilbur took his phone in his left hand as his right hovered over the ‘end call’ button, he said his goodbye, “Talk to you tomorrow, Tommy.”

“I love you, Wil.”

The slight whir of apprehension beneath his skin stopped. The buzzing sound of electricity coming to a halt as a storm cuts the power. 

Gentle smile tugging at his cheeks, Wilbur replied, “I love you too, Toms. Goodnight.”

Stumbling back into bed after turning his computer and lights off, Wilbur sunk into his sheets, pulling up the comforter to cover his nose. As the tender hands of night hugged him into unconsciousness, he felt calm wash over himself.

He knows when he wakes up the backup generator will have kicked in and the drone of static energy will have made its way back into his veins, but for now, he’s okay thanks to Tommy.

**Author's Note:**

> I really, honestly, do not know how to feel about this one. Like it's okay, not my best work in my opinion, but something is off and so enjoy it while you can cuz it might get taken down just because I don't think it's at it's best.
> 
> Enough of my rambling, comments, compliments, complaints, and criticisms are always welcomed and encouraged! (Also, if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes please tell me!)
> 
> My socials:  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/roller_jason/  
> Tumblr: https://rollerjason.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/RollerJason1
> 
> ~RollerJason <3


End file.
